Scotland birthday 2010
by UnhelpfulPanda
Summary: so before you find where I live and murder me in my sleep, Scotland, Ireland, and North Ireland are my OCs. I have gotten inspiration from other OCs of the same country, but I made these characters on my own. please enjoy.


so before you find where I live and murder me in my sleep, Scotland, Ireland, and North Ireland are my OCs. I have gotten inspiration from other OCs of the same country, but I made these characters on my own. please enjoy.

* * *

Scotland yawned, turning to his lover. The Irish boy was still sleeping, his red hair falling over his freckled cheeks. Scotland sat up, ruffling his messy brown hair. "Hey. Seamus...wake up," He ordered.

"Hn...what?" Ireland mumbled. He shot up. "Hey, happy birthday!" He smiled brightly. Scotland laughed.

"Right ter the point, eh?" He smirked. Ireland kissed him gently. "I love ye."

"I love you too, Angus," Ireland whispered. Scotland frowned, looking down at the redhead. "What?"

"Yer always whisperin' it. I want ye ter shout it out, if its true," Scotland sighed. Ireland sat up.

"Angus, I-!" He grumbled something. "I'll go make breakfast. Iggy's in the kitchen," Ireland a''nnounced, standing up. With the luck of the Irish on his side, England hadn't started to cook yet.

Scotland frowned, rolling over in bed. Why did Ireland have to be so...difficult?

Ireland stormed into the kitchen, snatching the frying pan from England's hand. "Arthur Elizabeth Kirkland, you know not to try to cook!" Ireland scolded.

"Bloody wanker, I'll do what I want!" England shouted. North Ireland laughed; a sweet, bell-like sound. Scotland walked into the room.

"Oh, Artie! You should listen to Seamus~!" North Ireland sung.

"Off the table, lassie," Scotland warned. North Ireland huffed.

"Careful, Angus. YOU haven't an once of control over me," She hissed.

"Temair," England warned. North Ireland jumped off the table, bowing low.

"Forgive me, Scotland the Great," She smirked mockingly. Ireland shook his head at the Scot.

"Well then, Temair, you are being harsh. It's Scotland's birthday," Ireland offered. North Ireland stormed away, her four leaf clover tramp stamp shaking as she marched. "Now, what would you like for you birthday?" Ireland asked with a small sigh as he cooked for Scotland.

Scotland looked up at the redhead, who gave a small glare in return because he knew exactly what the Scot wanted. "A giant mug of beer," Scotland lied. England set said beer down on the table in front of his older brother.

"That's good, because that's what I got you!" He laughed. Scotland chuckled in return, saving his present for later in the fridge. England went after North Ireland, angry at being told off.

Scotland pulled out his cigarette and walked over to his Irish lover, digging in the redhead's pocket and pulling out his lighter. "Thank you VERY much for asking," Ireland hissed as the Scot lit his cigarette. Scotland shrugged, cringing when Ireland smacked him hard over the head. Oh, Ireland was a very violent person...

"Sorry, Seamus," He grinned around the cigarette. Ireland rolled his eyes and continued cooking.

"Bloody hell, Angus, put that damn butt out!" England ordered, coming back into the room.

"Its me birthday cigarette!" Scotland pouted.

"You'll have less birthdays if you continue smoking! Blah, blah, blah-!" Okay, so the Brit wasn't saying blah, but to Scotland, it seemed like it. "-burning your lungs-!" heard it a million times. "-wastes money-!" yeah, yeah. "-who wants to kiss someone who's mouth tastes like smoke?"

Scotland choked on his cigarette. Ireland looked over at the Scot and back at England. "Someone who used to smoke, but quit," He 'suggested'. England blinked.

"What are you playing at?" He growled. Ireland shrugged.

"Oh, nothing!" Ireland sung, setting down Scotland's food in front of him and stealing the cigarette. He went and put it out. Scotland sighed and dug into his food.

"Tastes great, Seamus!" Scotland smiled brightly.

"So where would you like to go for your birthday?" England asked.

"A bar?" Ireland asked hopefully.

"His choice, Seamus! Shove off!" England snapped. Ireland blew a raspberry at the blonde.

"A bar sounds like a good idea ter me!" Scotland announced. Ireland cheered.

"Well, I'm not drinking!" England glared.

"Sure yer not, wee brother," Scotland rolled his eyes. England's cheeks went red.

"Now then, if you go to a bar, I-I won't follow!" North Ireland stuttered. Ireland smirked at his younger sister before turning around. "F-fine!" She stormed out the door as if angry at being persuaded even though nobody had.

"Let's invite some people. Angus, who would you like to come?" Ireland asked.

"Ask Dilan ter go," Scotland suggested. England went into a panic at the mere mention of Wales.

"Oh, oh, oh please no! He still sends me curses in the mail and throws stones at me and two months ago, he shot an arrow at me!" England cried.

Ireland and Scotland started to laugh, hard. "Oh, those were the good times!" Ireland choked out. Scotland nodded, wiping tears from his eyes.

"When we were wee laddies and Dilan would shout, "there's Artie!" and I'd take me bow and arrow and shoot at ye wee blondie!" Scotland added. Both howled with laughter.

"You two are so cruel to Artie!" North Ireland scolded. Ireland and Scotland calmed down.

"You wouldn't know, Temair. You were born after Arthur and I had that one-night-stand," Ireland snorted. North Ireland seethed.

"We do not mention that!" She shrieked, throwing a chair at the redhead and dashing away.

"Bugger!" Ireland hissed. "Wait, Temair!" Scotland watched Ireland run after North Ireland, feeling a bit jealous.

"Ah, you love him?" Scotland froze, turning to look at England, who was sipping his tea calmly.

"He dinnae love me back," He sighed.

"You would be surprised, Angus. So very surprised," England chuckled. Scotland sighed.

"He says he do, but...I dinnae ken if its true," Scotland ran a hand through his messy brown hair. England looked up at the Scot and sighed deeply into his teacup.

* * *

"Dilan! Dilan, open up!" Ireland called. There was a large bang followed by a sheep bleating.

"WHAT? IF YOU TOUCH THAT BLEEDING DOOR ONCE MORE, I-!" Wales opened the door, screaming death threats in Welsh, before he noticed them. "Oh..."

"Top of the mornin' to ya, Dilan," Ireland smiled. Wales nodded in greeting.

"Hullo, brothers. And niece," Wales added to North Ireland. "Elain, say hullo."

"Baaaah!" the sheep he was holding bleated. Wales laughed happily, his forest-green eyes shining.

"Would you like to come to the pub with us for Angus' birthday?" Ireland invited Wales frowned.

"I dunno, I don't want to spend my money..." He trailed off.

"He doesn't want to spend his money, Angus, so let's hurry up and go!" England squeaked. Wales zeroed in on the blonde and glared daggers at him.

"Oh Dilan, please!" Scotland rolled his eyes and stepped in front of the Brit. North Ireland sighed.

"I'll pay for you, you sheep-shagging buffoon," She huffed. Wales pouted, kissing Elain's woolly head. Elain blinked at North Ireland.

"Temair, you wound me. Elain needs love too," Wales retorted. Scotland smacked a hand to his forehead.

* * *

England was on a drunken rant about France, America, and Wales. "-an' France, ugh, if I coulda fix 'im like a dog, I woulda! Wales, wanker, one day 'e gonna be sorry 'e threw stones at me!" England slurred.

Wales couldn't hear him; he was too busy playing a very sexual drinking game with North Ireland. North Ireland straddled the dirty-blonde man and slipped his drink into her shirt. He leaned forward and drank it from its place in between her cleavage. That might not end well.

Scotland had Ireland sitting on his lap. Ireland was drinking, of course, unaware that he was unconsciously given the Scot a lap dance. Scotland wasn't about to tell him, or make him stop, so he just moaned into his drink and tried not to be too loud.

"Artie, how many times have I told you?" America was holding the smashed Englishman in his arms. England looked like he had melted in the American's embrace.

"You sodding git, I dun havta take orders from you!" England bit out. America rolled his eyes. "Come home and shag me," he slurred.

"No, Artie, that's called rape," America sighed.

"Then rape me," England huffed. America thought about that. It took him a while, but finally he answered.

"No. Heroes don't rape, as tempting as it may be," and with that, America threw the drunken Brit over his shoulder and started for home.

By that time, North Ireland had passed out. Wales had sat down on the floor with her head lying in his lap, still drinking and petting her hair lovingly. Ireland had gotten up on the table and was singing a Irish drinking song loudly.

"_Here's to all the bartenders and waitresses who've been servin' you your beers, and puttin' up with your noxious breath and your stupid drunken leers. So leave your money on the table when you go, tomorrow you'll have a sorry head and nothin' left to show! So bugger off, you bastards bugger off_!" Ireland sung.

"_FUCK YOU_!" The whole pub shouted back.

"_Bugger off, you bastards bugger off_!"

"_FUCK YOU_!" This song was strange, Scotland concluded, and pulled the redhead off the table before he could finish the chorus. Irish turned and captured the Scot's lips in a kiss.

"Seamus, I thought ye wanted ter keep us a secret!" Scotland hissed. Ireland jumped back onto the counter.

"GUESS WHAT? I LOVE ANGUS!" He shouted. Scotland's eyes went wide. Other men got on the table to confess their love.

Ireland allowed Scotland to pull him off the table again, kissing him passionately. "I love ye so much, Seamus," he whispered.

* * *

"Augh, I'm dying~!" Ireland whined, laying in bed. Scotland popped the pain killers into his mouth and washed it down with some water.

"Maybe ye should come and take the pills," Scotland suggested.

"I can't!" Ireland hissed. Scotland was about to ask him why.

"Oh. Last night," He mumbled. Ireland rolled his eyes. Scotland came over and sat next to the redhead. "I'm glad ye told the world, Seamus. I love ye," He smiled.

"I love you too, Angus. But my arse hurts," Ireland huffed. Scotland leaned down and locked their lips together.

"I'm sorry," Scotland frowned. Ireland smiled, shaking his head.

"No, I'm glad you had a good birthday night," he reassured. Scotland smiled.

"Thank you, Seamus. You don't know how much it means to me," He whispered. Ireland chuckled.

"I think I have a vague idea..."

* * *

Scotland-Angus McKenzie. brown hair, dark brown eyes, likes beer

Ireland-Seamus Duncan. orange hair, green eyes, short, likes beer

North Ireland-Temair Duncan Kirkland. orange hair, green eyes, 4-leaf-clover tramp stamp, likes beer

Wales-Dilan (currently no surname). likes sheep (especially Elain), careful his money, likes beer

yes, England's middle name is Elizabeth. not canon, but since Prussia's middle name is Maria (cuz of the St. Maria Order) I figured England's would be Elizabeth.


End file.
